


Surprise

by KorrohShipper



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic Steggy, Empty Nesters, F/M, Steggy -Freeform, Steve Rogers is Shookt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorrohShipper/pseuds/KorrohShipper
Summary: “It’s just that, I thought it’d be a long time.”Peggy rose from her seat and deposited herself under his arm and tucked in to his side. “Which is why it’s a surprise.” They stayed like that. A small quiet moment. “And because we’d need the practice.”
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529297
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Squares Filled: @happystevebingo - Accidental Baby Acquisition

“ _I’ve got a surprise_.”

After being chosen for an experimental super-soldier program that transformed him from a lanky asthmatic of 90-pounds to hulking mass of super soldier, being catapulted seventy years into the future from crashing a bomber into the ice, fighting aliens, robots, and then _more_ aliens, and finally—what Steve likes to think as the _pièce-de-résistance_ to the wonderful mindfuck that is his life—going back in time to realize he was the mystery husband all along of one Margaret Elizabeth Carter, he found that there is very little in life that could end up surprising him.

And that’s _before_ adding hindsight and being armed with the knowledge of the future, Steve should have realized that when it comes to Peggy, there’s no guarantee of a quiet and predictable life.

It all started with a call from the Camp Lehigh. Peggy had left early that morning, something about ironing out details for a future SHIELD endeavor of a joint project with the Air Force. He wasn’t expecting her back until later that afternoon—Peggy always lost track of time in the office.

“ _Darling_?”

It was odd. He was in his study—his phone never rang for anyone in his study unless it was from Peggy’s office or her personal line in her car. Hesitantly, he picked up and was pleasantly surprised by the greeting. “Peggy?”

There was an audible sigh of relief and a chuckle that died mid-way on her breath. “ _Steve, I’m already downstairs and I’ve got my hands full_ —” he was expecting her, maybe to cancel dinner, “— _would you be a darling and open the front door for me, please_?”

He paused, unsure if it was really her or some sort of an elaborate prank Howard set up.

“ _Steve_?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, _sure_?”

There was another laugh on the end of the line.

“ _Thank you_.” She breathed out. “ _Oh, and darling_?”

“Yeah?” that little twinkle in her voice, that small but lingering vowels of her accent, there was no technology that could replicate her. That was his wife, and how sheepish she sounded worried him.

“ _I’ve got a surprise_.”

She disconnected the line before he could make a sound and ended up staring at the phone for a minute before gathering up his senses to open the door.

Steve went out of the study and descended the flight of stairs, his eyes briefly meeting the homey arrangement of frames that adorned the wall. He still expected to hear the laughter of the kids, he still did double-takes whenever doors would close behind him half-expecting to see the kids only to realize it was the wind.

Near the bottom of the stairs was a wide drawer and there he saw a framed graduation portrait of his eldest. Sarah was off to law school now. She would have been home for Christmas had it not been for her sudden appointment as an intern for her professor’s law firm. “ _I got in_!” he still remembered her call that woke him up at 4 am.

He didn’t get any sleep that night, but hearing her voice, the happiness that he could only picture as she talked about the people she could help, that had been worth it.

Near the portrait was a silver trophy that gleamed in the bright noon sun. It was from a soccer match—“Football, Steve. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re pressing on with this _soccer_ nonsense.”—The twins, Michael and James, had been different. Mike went off to college, riding on a scholarship that’ll land him soon a spot in Johns Hopkins.

Steve paused, letting the step creak in protest of his weight, and rode the wave of the memory. He could still remember how three bags were tightly tied to the roof of a second-hand, baby blue VW Bug in his driveway. The engine sputtered, probably the clutch because he Mike always pressed on ignition far too soon but he suspected it was because he couldn’t really leave without giving Peg another hug goodbye.

It had been more than a year since he last saw that car roll out of the street, when Mike waved goodbye. Right now, he was in Europe, an exchange program according to the letter he sent last August.

Jamie, on the other hand, was far closer yet more out of touch than Mike and Sarah. He suspected Peggy saw him more, but officially, there should be no contact, at least according to West Point rules. He sent pictures, undeveloped films that told the little escapades he and his friends got into.

And finally, his gaze landed on a framed father’s day card—the messily scribbled handwriting tugged at his heart.

Angela was the only one who was abroad. She finished with a degree in economics but took a surprising turn when she decided to take on theatre. Her godmother, Angie Martinelli, took her on a trip to London to attend a show she’s been doing on West End.

Still, even as a grown woman with a life of her own, Steve couldn’t help but still see her as his little girl who went up to his study, last on the little line Peggy had formed, handing him her own small token for father’s day.

And it wasn’t just with Angela—it was for all his kids.

For someone who finally let go of the past and began his own life, he couldn’t let go.

Then he heard the rushed movements of shuffling feet and he remembered why he went down—Peggy.

He shook his head and marched down to the bottom of the stairs.

The empty nest was getting to him.

“Steve?” Peggy called out and he walked faster.

“Coming!” he replied, rushing to reach out for the knob. A part of him wished, at the moment, that he didn’t open the door as fast as he did.

There was probably a minute or two before the world descended into a routine, Peggy heading straight for the kitchen to check if there was something to eat as if there wasn’t something out of place.

“Uh, Peg?” he stood dumbfounded, still holding open a door when she strode by right past him.

There was a clatter in the kitchen—because as much as Peggy was adept at international conflict resolution, she didn’t know a damn thing about where the silverware was in the kitchen—but he could hear the steady waft of words, continuing on with a conversation like it was right as rain.

“Peggy?” he now stood in the middle of the arch, his arms crossed, staring as Peggy fixed herself a sandwich, eyeing the tightly packed blue bag neatly tucked into the corner of the kitchen island. “I didn’t know we have company.”

As if she actually forgot, she beamed at him—his heart skipped a beat, even after all those years of marriage—and waved her hand over to her guest. “Oh, I thought you two had met.” She replied tartly, innocent yet cheeky all the same. “Anthony, meet my husband, Steven Grant Rogers, not so much the famous war-time hero.” She pressed a finger on her chin, emulating a thoughtful look. “Think more along the lines of illustrator and newspaper editor.”

“Oh, no.” He laughed. “We did, but not for another forty-one years, actually.”

She clapped in response. “Wonderful. Now that you’re properly acquainted.” Peggy pointed towards the baby bag. “Now you can make a bottle.”

Because there, in his kitchen, was an infant Tony Stark, and Peggy having afternoon tea like it was the most normal thing to do. “Mind telling me how long our guest is staying for?”

“Oh, just over the night.” His wife replied offhandedly.

Then, a small inkling of worry popped in his head. “And his family’s aware of his sudden visit over?”

That got her looking at him blankly. “Howard decided he and Maria were in desperate need of a weekend alone, which sadly coincided with the very same weekend Mr. Jarvis and Ana decided to take off and finally take that trip to see the Grand Canyon.”

Processing everything, he swallowed. “And we have the right of hosting him _why_?”

“Because I was the only person around at the office who Howard could have swindled for a weekend with Anthony, not that I needed convincing, I missed this little bugger.” She tossed him a look and raised a brow at his concern expression. “Oh, don’t give me that. We’ve raised four children, I’m sure our qualifications meet their standards for a short-term guardianship.”

Quickly, he shook his head. “No, it’s not that.” He muttered softly, and he couldn’t help but think, in a few more decades, he’d meet Tony, a different kind of man from the person he thought him to be.

“It’s just that, I thought it’d be a long time.”

Peggy rose from her seat and deposited herself under his arm and tucked in to his side. “Which is why it’s a surprise.” They stayed like that. A small quiet moment. “And because we’d need the practice.”

His brows scrunched up. “Practice? What for?”

Peggy’s eyes widened. “Oh—” she swallowed back a word and glanced at a family photograph. “I’m guessing Mike didn’t tell you.”

“What did Mike—” his eyes widened for a second and he, for his life, stood in pale horror. But Peggy was already walking away towards the bag, probably to ready a bottle of formula.

Peggy glanced knowingly at Tony.

“Wait _what_?!”


End file.
